Trying to solve a family crisis by chewing gum
by mandaree1
Summary: Della managed to get the boys their very special first birthday present after all.


**Disclaimer: I don't own Ducktales!**

**Title: "Worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum." ~ Mary Schmich**

**Summary: Della managed to get the boys their very special first birthday present after all.**

**Setting: AU where Della gets home when they boys are toddlers**

**…**

"You got any gum?"

The astronaut flying her is a very nice lady, as far as total strangers go, but she's far too stiff. The ship is slowly coasting into orbit at his point. Della finds it easier to joke around than she does acknowledging that she's pretty dang anxious about all of this, so she stubbornly refuses the helmet and blows disgusting black licorice bubbles.

"Something other than Oxy-Chew," she added.

"Ma'am, please, I'm trying to focus."

"So am I! I've been chewing nonstop for, like, a year now. If I don't have some gum I'll probably chew my tongue off. And black licorice is evil incarnate." Della paused. "I'll even take the kind that runs outta flavor in, like, two minutes."

"Ma'am," repeated the pilot, exasperated.

Della crossed her arms and pouted.

She's still chewing the same piece of hell gum when they lead her into a hospital room for a basic checkup. Della realizes it's necessary and all, but she's not exactly cooperative as they poke and prod. She lets them unhinge her foot and scan the stump, doing some basic mechanical work on the metal portion. The gravity on Earth is far heavier than the moon's, so she definitely needed to lighten the weight a bit to make movement easier.

Della's screwing the last bolt back into place when the sound of a cane tapping on solid tile floor catches her attention. The hospital is loud, louder than what she had started becoming accustomed to, and she's grown a bit disconnected from herself due to it. But she knew that cane. She knew that cane was important.

Scrooge McDuck rounded the corner, took one look at her, and immediately burst into tears.

Della's jaw dropped. Scrooge didn't cry. He hadn't even cried at the Granny's funeral. To see him crying, and doing it so publicly, was somewhere being strange and _this is some fever dream and I never left the moon at all._ She got up, took a step, and realized a second too late that she hadn't put her foot back on. Della instinctively threw herself backwards, hoping to grab onto her bed, but next thing she knew she was in her Uncle's arms.

"I cannae believe it," he whispered into her shoulder. "I _didn't_ believe it. Not when they reported in, not even when they told me what room ye were in. But yew're here. Yer alive."

Della could feel her eyes welling up as she closed them. "I'm alive."

Scrooge ever-so-gently helped her back onto the hospital bed, a gesture which irritated her on the mere principle. She was Della Duck, damnit. She just survived a year on the moon! She didn't need an old man with knee issues helping her two centimeters backward. But the look on his face stopped her from saying anything.

"Oh, Della," he whispered, staring at her leg.

"No!" She jabbed her metal replacement in his face, almost taking his glasses with the swing. "Bad Uncle! No lame pity! I'm home, I'm hardcore, I _might_ need some therapy, we're going home and I'm going to meet my boys. Got it?"

Scrooge cleared his throat and looked away. "That, uh, that may take a mite bit longer than-"

"What did you do?"

"I didn't! It was Donald, I swear."

Della felt like someone had stabbed her in the stomach. "Uncle Scrooge, you were supposed to take care of the boys. _All_ our boys." He flinched. "I always thought- if something happened to me, the boys would have you both."

"They have Donald," Scrooge said, in a defeated tone. "I suppose that's better."

* * *

"Beakley's away on business," he explained as he led Della down the hall. Scrooge has been like this the whole way home; leading her around like she's a baby all over again. "Her wee one had a wee one. But she's been keeping yer room up, so it shouldn't be too dusty. Maybe a bit robbed, if the Beagle Boys broke in, but..."

"You... kept my room up?" Della asked, surprised. She expected the search rockets. She expected the medical care. She didn't expect her room to have been kept clean, or to be considered much at all. "Wow. Thanks, Uncle Scrooge."

Scrooge awkwardly pats her on the back. "I'll... go give Donnie a call. Yew gonna be okay alone for a bit?"

She's been alone this long, hasn't she? "Sure, Uncle Scrooge. It'll give me some time to settle in."

Della digs around in her drawers until she finds a half-empty pack of cheap bubblegum. She spits the Oxy-Chew into the bin with a rare, pure kind of pleasure and sits down on her bed. The springs creak under her weight.

She's back.

It's over.

But is it, really? Della stares at the posters on her walls. Most of them are of bands and places, but some are of the stars. Spaceships. She'd really, truly been so excited to explore space, and she'd wanted her boys to go with her. Now she never wanted to go anywhere near the inky abyss again.

As Della falls into a light dooze, she feels ashamed. She's Della Duck. She shouldn't be scared of anything. She survived the moon. She _cut her own leg off_. This adventure is her Moby Dick, and she caught the white whale. If anything, she should be proud.

Della didn't feel proud.

She awoke to a shrill voice, cooing, "Cappy! Cappy!"

Della jumped, hurrying to sit up. She just knew the Moonmite was here for a midnight duel as she unhooked her leg, raising it above her head. "Just try me you-"

"Della?"

Donald looks decades older than when she saw him last. Deep, thick bags lined his eyes, and his plumage had become ratty from a lack of proper preening. That old sailor suit he loved was rumpled and covered in what looked like grease. On top of it all was three laughing, cheerful toddlers, wound to his chest with papooses front and back, the third curled comfortably into his arm.

"Donnie?" she asked.

Her brother tilted back his head and let out a quivering, quacking wail. He rushed to meet her for a hug. "I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD YOU MORON," he shrieked.

"Missed you too." The baby squished uncomfortably between them let out an impatient little wiggle. Della pulled back. "Is that..."

Donald had a watery smile as he waved a hand at the toddler at front. "This is Dewey. He likes seeing what's happening." He pointed at the one in back. "Huey's the oldest, so he watches out for us." Then, finally, the one curled in the crook of his elbow. "And this is Louie. He... well, he just likes being held."

"They're beautiful," she whispered, holding her hands out. Donald quickly unstrapped Dewey, handing him over with care. "Hey, little guy. I'm so sorry it took so long."

Dewey blinked at her. He gave a little jump, then tried desperately to squirm free. "Cappy!" he wailed. "Cappy!"

Della felt the air leave her lungs as her eyes met Donald's. He didn't look surprised. Just defeated.

"It's short for Captain," he explained. "They... they wanted to call me dad."

"They don't remember me," she confirmed, then handed Dewey back with a sigh. "I should've known."

"Dells-"

"No! No, it's okay. Really." Della swallowed what felt like a bowling ball's worth of regrets. "We have the rest of forever to get to know each other."

Donald slowly hunkered down next to her. "Got any gum?"

She handed him the whole pack. "It's old and gross."

"Like Scrooge, then."

"_Ahem_," said Scrooge, having just appeared in the doorway. The codger hobbled over and sat down on Della's other side. She handed him some gum. He popped it into his mouth with a sour look on his face. "Sooooo… what now?"

"I have to go to work at three," Donald offered.

"It's eight."

"A.M., Uncle Scrooge."

"Ah."

"I'll-" Della started to say _I'll babysit_, but that wasn't what this was, was it? They were_ her_ sons. Louie yawned and rolled over, reminding Della of their predicament. They'd imprinted on Donald. They loved him. She was just a stranger, the same way Scrooge was to Donald, and everyone was to her. "We'll work this out. I mean... we're all a little worse for wear, right?"

"Right," Donald answered, nodding.

"I suppose," grumbled Scrooge. He blew a bubble.

There was time. They could fix this.

She certainly didn't get this far to not at least try.

**Author's Note: Woohooo! A little exploration between family members! I had a blast with this one- which is for my buddy! I hope you like it! And I really appreciate you allowing me to slip in my Cappy headcanon! (When they get older it turns to Cap'n, and then they get into school and it becomes Uncle)**

**-Mandaree1**


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